Top Assassin with Superpowers Reborn novel Chapter 7

The owner of the fight pit locked onto Margaret the moment he saw her. He couldn't look away from her figure. "Our honored guest, who is this stunning lady?"
The way he stared at Margaret irritated Andrew. He looked down, rubbing his fingers together. A frigid, dangerous light flashed in his eyes.
His hands felt restless. He wanted to rip the man's eyes out and crush them under his shoe.
Andrew didn't speak. The middle-aged man beside him answered instead, "She's the slave we chose."
"What?!" The owner of the fight pit was shocked. His stare became even more obvious. "There's such a beauty among this batch of slaves?"
Once he knew she was just a slave, his gaze turned dirty.
"Keep staring like that, and I might just gouge your eyes out." Margaret's voice was soft but held no warmth.
Her words sent a chill down his spine.
The fight pit boss frowned. When he met the woman's eyes, he actually felt pressured.
That detached look—the kind that didn't care about life or death—he'd only seen that in top-level killers.
But compared to this girl, those killers weren't even close.
"Let's start," Margaret said.
The urge to kill inside her was getting hard to control.
"Let me borrow this." Margaret glanced over the table and picked up a small steak knife.
Then she moved. In one smooth, quick motion, she jumped straight off the balcony—20 feet high—and landed right in the center of the fighting ring. She moved like a sleek black panther.
In front of her stood a huge man, over six feet seven inches tall. Next to Margaret's slim figure, he looked like a giant.
"Damn! That girl is stunning!"
"A slave? How is she so pretty? I'll pay to have her!"
"I'll buy her too! A beauty like that shouldn't just be beaten to death—what a waste!"
Dirty looks from the men piled onto Margaret.
Up on the balcony—
The fight pit boss also thought it was a shame. He regretted his decision. "Honored guest, how about you pick another slave? I'm keeping this one."
A woman like that dying here would be a waste. A treasure like her—he could keep her for himself or give her to someone important.
Andrew saw the greed in the man's eyes. The disgusting hunger made him even more annoyed. His voice turned frigid. "She's mine."
One look from Andrew made him feel like he'd fallen into an ice pit.
"I can't help it," Andrew said, his lips curling into a cutting, sick smile. "I want to kill you."
"What?"
He blinked, not understanding. He thought it was a joke.
This was his territory.
A second later, a silver pistol appeared in Andrew's hand.
Bang!
A muffled sound. The bullet went straight through the man's forehead.
His body slumped in the chair, eyes wide open, full of dead anger.
Andrew fired two more shots. Each bullet hit one of the man's eyes.
It happened too fast. Too clean.
No one had time to react.
A few seconds later, the fight pit boss's men finally started to move.
Andrew took a clean, white handkerchief and wiped the blood spray from his face. His movements were slow and calm, filled with a quiet, noble grace.
Andrew glanced at the middle-aged man beside him. "Clean this up."
"Yes, sir."
The man got to work.
One minute later, the second-floor balcony was covered with dead bodies.
Down below, the crowd was screaming loud enough to shake the roof. No one heard a thing from above.
In the ring—
"You, a Vyrtharian woman, are truly gorgeous," the slave said, his eyes full of desire.
"Thank you."
Margaret smiled lightly. For a moment, she was pure charm.
The place went wild. Every eye was stuck on the girl in the ring.
Too beautiful! Too wicked! Too magnetic!
Like a creature of the night, radiating a dangerous kind of attraction.
"I'm going to have my fun with you—then I'll tear you apart!"
The big man charged. People closed their eyes, sure the delicate girl would be smashed to pieces.
Then—
A heavy thud shook the ring. The sound of something massive hitting the floor.
Heads snapped up.
A moment before, the arena had been roaring. Now it was silent as a grave. One could hear their own heartbeat.
On the mat—
The giant man lay flat. A four-inch steak knife was buried deep in the middle of his forehead. His eyes were still wide, furious, and dead.
One hit, one kill.
The girl in the ring stood tall and cold, like a ruler of the underworld. Her enchanting face stood out against the bloody, brutal scene. It created a dark, twisted beauty that was impossible to look away from.